


The Story of Us

by ladyofbrileith



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofbrileith/pseuds/ladyofbrileith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to fulfill the prompt "Five fulfilled places of 102 Places to Have Sex, and One place you would never do it," Angela married Adam instead of Arthur. The fic traces the course of their marriage from proposal to present day. Warnings for graphic sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story of Us

**Five fulfilled places of 102 Places to Have Sex**  
  
 _1964_  
  
On a porch swing.  
  
There's a cool enough wind tonight that he reaches for a blanket to wrap around them, setting the wide wooden swing to rocking, the chains creaking a little in protest, breaking the silence of the night. Her head settles against his shoulder, dark hair pooling against his skin, and he finds himself smiling. It's such a simple thing, a gesture of contentment after a long day of plans and a whirlwind evening of promises. Adam slides his fingers slowly down her arm, trailing over her skin until he reaches her hand and winds his fingers through hers, feeling the press of the sharp edges of the ring he put there just a couple of hours earlier against his palm.   
  
"You're certain?" He tries to keep the hint of anxiety out of his voice, but it creeps through a bit. She's so young, and his last two marriages didn't exactly end well.  
  
Tilting her head up, Angela gives him a look they've all learned already to not argue against. "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have said yes."  
  
Adam smiles a little, feeling the momentary tension that had crept back into his stomach melt away again, and dips his head to kiss her softly. The swing creaks again, swaying as she shifts to climb onto his lap.   
  
"Besides," she adds, pulling her lips from his and trailing them along his jaw towards his ear. "I had a dream about this."  
  
"Did you?" he asks, slipping his had down from her arm to slide up her leg slowly, under the hem of her skirt, teasing along her bare skin and making her shiver. "How did it go?"  
  
Angela shifts to make sure the blanket is wrapped around their shoulders, then trails her fingers down his chest to the waist of his jeans, hesitating there for a moment, still occasionally shy of taking charge, despite the things he's been teaching her for two years now. Her breath trembles across his skin, and he stills his questing hand, waiting, until her fingers move again, undoing his fly and reaching to pull him free. "Something like this," she murmurs, stroking her hand up his length, fitting him against her thigh.   
  
The swing sways again as Adam shifts to press more into her hand, a soft moan echoing the creak of the chain. His fingers move, sliding higher to push her panties aside, finding she must have been thinking about this for a while, for as slick and ready as she is already. He teases her a moment anyway, until her hand leaves him and pulls his away. "How did it end?" he manages to ask.  
  
It takes her a moment to answer, and she waits until she's shifted to her knees, wrapping her hand around him again to guide him to where she wants him. Only when she's sunk down onto him, and they're both trembling a little from the effort of staying like that does she meet his eyes with a quiet smile that has a wicked edge behind it. "We lived happily ever after."  
  
Adam smirks a bit, his heel digging into the wood of the porch beneath them, thigh contracting to pull forward, then push back, setting the swing to rocking. The movement shifts them, and Angela's eyes widen a little as she gasps. Leaning forward, he closes the slight distance between them to properly kiss her as she picks up the momentum, hips rocking against him, and the only sounds breaking the night for some time are the creak of the chains punctuated by their soft moans.  
  
 _1965_  
  
Under a waterfall.  
  
"This isn't exactly what I had in mind when you said a honeymoon in paradise," Angela grumbles, swatting at a mosquito and shifting the backpack on her shoulders.  
  
Adam glances back at her with a grin. "It will be worth it, I promise. Besides, we can't just sit around on the beach all day, every day."  
  
"Yes, actually, we can. Or rather, hotel room, beach, hotel room, beach, hotel room, nice restaurant, dancing, hotel room. Little drinks with umbrellas. Working on my tan. Maybe some time by the pool, instead of the beach, then back to the hotel room. Are you sensing a pattern?"  
  
"You really want to come all the way to Hawaii and never leave the resort?"  
  
"I really wasn't planning on trekking around in the back of beyond and getting covered in mud."  
  
"Think of it as a mud bath, like at the spa?" Adam asks hopefully.  
  
"If I wanted a mud bath I'd go _to_ the spa and have it sans the mosquitoes," Angela shoots back.   
  
"Just a little further..." Adam coaxes, and for all Angela gives him a somewhat sullen look, she keeps trailing behind him.  
  
It's another ten minutes, but they come around curve in the trail, and the dense foliage opens up and there below them a waterfall crashes down into a deep pool of water flowing out toward the ocean.  
  
"Oh..." Angela gasps, coming to a stop next to Adam, eyes widening a bit in wonder.  
  
"Exactly," Adam murmurs.   
  
He gives her a moment to look, then takes her hand to help her down the steep incline to the base of the falls. Once there, he strips off his shirt, kicking off his hiking boots and socks, and she gives him a look. "Feel like a swim?" he asks, giving her a smile.  
  
"In that?"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Is it safe?"  
  
Adam shrugs. "I'm here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."  
  
Angela looks at the falls for a moment, then the pool of still water, then Adam before a smile starts to dawn. With a shrug, she strips her t-shirt and capris off, down to the bikini Adam had encouraged her to wear for reasons he wouldn't explain. Adam slips into the water first, then holds out his arms, and she jumps in after him, laughing when she comes up.   
  
"It's cold."  
  
"Feels good though, yes?" he asks with a grin.  
  
"Yes," she agrees.  
  
His arms slide around her as he pulls her close for a kiss, floating easily in the water. "Want to get closer?"  
  
"To the falls?"  
  
"Uh huh. There are caves behind it..."  
  
She bites her lower lip for a moment, a gesture undoubtedly picked up from him, then nods. With powerful strokes he fights the current, getting them closer. She's not as strong a swimmer and has to hold on, but there's something thrilling in it, as if they're defying nature itself, fighting the water and telling it that it will not win. The water pounds down hard, almost painfully as he pulls them directly under the falls. All of the mud from the trail washes away, and she has to catch her breath, and then they're through. It's loud, the roar of the water echoing down through the cave behind them, softer than it does at Niagara Falls, but still impressive. It's a bit like the Jungle Cruise ride, she thinks, then bites back the comment as inane and childish, and doesn't say it aloud, just smiling up at Adam with an expectant grin.  
  
"It's beautiful."  
  
"You're beautiful," he says, one arm holding her up, the other brushing her hair back from her face where the waterfall destroyed her ponytail. His hand continues down her neck, deftly undoing the ties there, and brushing down her spine to take care of the second tie, before she recognizes what he's doing.   
  
"Adam..." His mouth cuts off her words with a hungry kiss, and the bit of fabric separating their chests disappears with a tug. She gets a sense he tossed it on the rock ledge, but the press of her breasts to his chest is a little too distracting for her to be sure. Her mind flashes to the other cars that had been parked at the trail head, the other hikers they met on the trail. The waterfall has to be a popular destination, and though it's heavy and she couldn't really see the cave clearly behind it when they were on the other side, she'd been able to make out some of it. She tenses a little, pulling back and giving him a slightly nervous look. "Someone might come..."  
  
"Maybe," he agrees, not seeming concerned. "So?" His fingers slide up to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple lightly, teasingly. "If they come back here, they'll likely just be sorry we got here first..."  
  
"But..." Her eyes flutter closed and she presses into his hand a bit.   
  
"No buts." It's an order. She knows that tone of voice. He doesn't take it often, but when he does, he expects to be obeyed. She swallows, a little thrill going through her as further protests die on her lips. His hand slides down her side to her waist, the one at her back shifting to join it, and before she knows what's happening, he's shifted her to sit on the ledge. His fingers hook in the ties at her hips, and she has some idea now of why he bought her this particular bikini, which she found a little scandalous, as he unties them, not even bothering to ask her to lift her hips. "Lean back." Another order, and she follows it, watching him through half open eyes now, aware of how bare she is, out in the open. There's something thrilling about it, even as her heartbeat speeds up in nervousness as well. His fingers slide along the line of her leg, tracing toward her center, and at a look from those blue eyes of his, her legs part. "Further." She does as she's told. "Arch your back."   
  
She does that, too, cheeks flushing at the picture she must present, spread out on the rock, a feast for his eyes. His fingers fall away. She can hear him in the water still, though her view is more of the rock above, the water coming down like the wedding veil he'd lifted the week before. It seems like ages, she stays like that, staring at the water, not daring to move, open for him. Her skin has mostly dried, though a fine mist from the waterfall keeps it moist. Her breathing speeds up, and she feels herself getting wet, skin flushing, and she's thinking about begging him to touch her or let her move or _anything_ when it seems he knows she's at that point--he always knows when she gets to the point---when his wet fingers slowly trace down her chest. She can feel him against the rock, between her thighs, and a whimper escapes.  
  
"Shhh..." he admonishes, and she bites her lip to try and hold the sounds in.   
  
His hand cups her breast again, thumb flicking over a pert nipple. His lips brush her sternum, the closer movement bringing his chest in contact with her heated sex, and it's everything she can do not to wriggle and press against him for some relief. His hands move, and then his lips, caressing and worshiping, moving over her--chest, stomach, legs. He nips lightly at her inner thigh as his fingers stroke the line of her groin, but he refuses to touch her where she needs him most. Her heart is pounding out of her chest, and she's forgotten all about the other hikers, and the rules, as well.  
  
"Adam, _please_..."  
  
He pauses, and then his hands and lips are gone and she sobs a bit in frustration, angry at herself for breaking, worried he'll go. The sound seems to earn her mercy, or perhaps he just wanted her to beg, to drive her to that point, though, because in the next moment he's back, body lifting out of the water to drip ice cold drops on her. His lips find her neck, teeth biting down claimingly as his cock thrusts into her, hard and sure. She screams loud enough to make it echo through the cave as she comes.  
  
 _1975_  
  
In a tree house.  
  
"Angela, will you come up here a moment?"  
  
He sees her appear at the bottom of the ladder, peering up at him with an arch of her eyebrow. "I've got my Junior League meeting, Adam. I'm hardly dressed to be climbing a tree."  
  
"You're not climbing a tree, you're climbing a ladder," he points out, with an eyebrow arch of her own.  
  
"What do you need?" she asks, still staying right where she is, brushing down her suit jacket, and he takes a moment to admire the picture she presents, the woman she has grown into, composed and pulled together.  
  
"I need you to see something."  
  
"In Nathan's tree house?" she asks skeptically.  
  
"In Nathan's tree house," he confirms, with an angelic smile.  
  
She gives him a distrustful look that proves she knows him a little too well, but with a sigh, she sets her handbag down on the grass, her gloves on top of it, and kicks her heels off, before stepping onto the ladder. "I'm going to get a run in my stockings."  
  
"You can put on another pair."  
  
Her head emerges in the opening and he slips a hand under her arm to help her up the rest of the way. "What is it you needed me to see?"  
  
"Me," Adam says with a smirk, leaning in to steal a kiss, his fingers still curled around her upper arm.  
  
Angela returns the kiss for a moment before pulling back and giving him an exasperated look. "You dragged me up into a tree house for that?"  
  
"No." Adam pulls her closer, coaxingly, until she's forced to kneel next to him. "I coaxed you up into the tree house for this." He leans in to kiss her more thoroughly, fingers sliding to curl around the back of her neck, the other one slipping under her jacket to settle under the curve of her breast.   
  
"I have a meeting," Angela says, pulling back a little, though her lips remain next to his. "They're electing Board members...I can't be late."  
  
"You won't be late," Adam assures her, fingers slipping up over the silk of her shirt to undo the little pearl buttons carefully but quickly, then slipping under to tug her camisole out from her skirt so he can slide his hand underneath, brushing over her skin with a contented sigh.  
  
Angela shivers a little at the touch, but doesn't relent. "Nathan will be home any minute, and you know he always heads right back here."  
  
"Well, then, we'd better hurry, or we'll be explaining the birds and bees to him a bit sooner than we'd planned on," Adam says, using his other hand to push her jacket off.  
  
"You're the one who's always saying anticipation makes things sweeter," she reminds him, though she lets the jacket fall to the floor behind her.  
  
"I've been anticipating ever since this morning," he responds, fingers slipping from her side to around her back to undo her bra so he can cup her breast in his palm, though all the fabric she's got on is still an annoying hindrance.   
  
"We did this before we got up this morning," she says dryly, even as her eyes fall closed and her voice goes a little breathy at his touch.   
  
His lips slide down along her jaw to her neck, nibbling and he moves his hand to impatiently tug her shirt off to follow her jacket to the floor, pulling back only long enough to toss her camisole to join it, followed by her bra. "And then you got up."  
  
"I had to get Nathan ready for school, and you had to call Daniel."  
  
"Details," he murmurs, teeth catching her skin, and she moans.  
  
"Elections, Adam, be gentle..."  
  
"This suit would look perfect with a scarf..." But he encourages her more to her knees and lets his lips slide down over her collarbone and lower to wrap around one nipple, sucking lightly until she whimpers.   
  
Her fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, trailing over his chest when she gets it open, nails digging in and leaving red lines that disappear quickly, as always. He moans anyway, shifting to press her back onto the wooden floor. One of her hands reaches up and wraps around the top of the ladder, bracing herself, as he pulls her stockings down.  
  
"Not a single run," he says with a smirk before tossing them aside. Her panties join the pile, along with his shirt, and her skirt ends up around her waist, before he stretches out over her to kiss her again, hungrily this time.  
  
Angela arches up toward him, one hand wrapping around him, the other undoing his pants with practiced ease, and pushing them down enough to be out of the way. She wraps a leg around him, tilting her hips up to meet him, rubbing against him with an urgent moan. Adam smirks a bit against her lips, pleased with her response despite her previous protests, and presses into her, echoing her moan.  
  
He's helping her down from the ladder, holding her arm as she gets her shoes back on as Nathan comes running up.   
  
"What are you guys doing back here?"  
  
"I was just showing your mother the new shelves I put in up there," Adam says with a perfectly straight face.  
  
Angela shoots him a dirty look, presses a kiss to Nathan's forehead, and then hurries toward the garage, tossing back over her shoulder, "I'm going to be late for my meeting."  
  
But Adam catches the smile on her face as she turns away, and can't help feeling a bit smug as he turns back to Nathan, who's already up the ladder to see the new shelves.  
  
The smug look disappears though, as Nathan looks back down with a confused look on his face. "Uh, Dad? Why's there girl underwear up here?"  
  
 _1990_  
  
On your patio, balcony, or deck on a starry night.  
  
The glass of wine in her hand is half empty, and it's her second one. It's a fine vintage, she's sure. They all are. Adam has some insistence on being surrounded by fine things, as if making up for a lack somewhere in his past. She knows he didn't come from money, but with stories of Marie Antoinette, and the court of Versailles, and plantation homes burned by Union soldiers, it's hard to understand why something so long ago would still be haunting him. She's given up trying to understand some things about her husband, though, and it isn't that which occupies her thoughts tonight.   
  
The house is quiet. Too quiet. Her logical mind tells her she's just being fanciful, really. It's not like Nathan was ever a _loud_ child to begin with, and the house is so very large--another of Adam's indulgences--that she could often sit out here on the patio and not hear either husband or son. But tonight there's an emptiness that tugs at her, and she feels the ache of it in her chest. She sips the wine and lets it warm her throat, barely tasting it, staring up at the moon and stars, and wonders if they look the same in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Logic says they do, of course. It's only two hundred miles, less than a four hour drive. The stars are probably exactly the same, but she doubts Nathan's staring up at them thinking of home. He's probably off at some fraternity rush thing, or whatever it is kids do the first week of college before classes start.  
  
She drains the glass of wine and hears a step behind her. Strong arms slip around her, and lips brush over her hair. One hand slides up her arm, over the line of her neck to bury in her hair, deftly undoing the bun and letting it fall down around her shoulders. She knows he prefers it down; he always has. She should remember that. She isn't getting any younger, while he isn't looking any older. Already people give them odd looks when they go out, and she knows he's putting himself in danger the way he stays with her. The Company's protection and advocacy for those with abilities has only gone so far, and someone with Adam's is still on the frightening edge, or in danger of exploitation in a world that has always been searching for the fountain of youth.   
  
"He's meeting us in the Hamptons for Labor Day." His voice is quiet, soothing.  
  
"Because of that girl," she says, dryly.  
  
"Yes, well, he's a teenage boy. You can't expect him to think a weekend with his parents is cool. A girl, on the other hand..."  
  
She huffs a bit, but leans back into him more. "I miss him, already."  
  
He's quiet for a bit. "So do I."  
  
They stand like that for a while, staring at the sky. His fingers tease absently through her hair and down her neck, then back up to do it again, over and over in a pattern meant to soothe. The wine moves through her system in a stealthy slink, and she feels her body start to relax, the tension easing in what starts to become a sensual haze. What was soothing becomes something else, goosebumps rising on her arms now and again. He senses the shift in her mood, as he always does, and chuckles as he brushes her hair away from her neck and lowers his head to tease his lips along her neck, up to her earlobe.  
  
"Of course, there are some advantages to him being gone..."  
  
"Such as...?" she asks, breath catching.  
  
"The staff has gone home," he points out, voice full of intimate mischief. "He's not here. We have the whole house to ourselves. The entire house. Every. Single. Room. When was the last time that happened?"  
  
She can't remember, and the goosebumps grow as she shivers, a heat creeping through her in its wake. His fingers slide down her arm, curling around the wineglass to set it aside, then slide back up. The August night is warm and balmy, not cooling down much even though the sun has set, and when he slips his hands under her shirt and tugs it up, she lets it peel off without protest, welcoming the slight breeze. His lips ghost down her spine as he undoes her bra, slipping it off and letting it fall to the flagstones. She lets her eyes fall closed, concentrating on each brush of his mouth, each touch of his fingers over her. Her tennis skirt falls next--she'd meant to challenge him to a game as a way to fill the time, then let herself get distracted. She'd wondered if he'd just lift it, but no. When he pulls her panties off, she's standing there bare, looking out toward the pool, the moon shining down, the kitchen light spilling out behind her.  
  
There's a rustling behind her as he strips his clothes off as well, and then she feels him back against her again. She leans into him, head tilting obediently as his lips find her neck once more. Her fingers slide up to curl in his hair, twisting there almost cruelly when she finally tugs and turns just enough to capture his lips with hers, kissing him demandingly. Tongues tangle in a well-known dance that never fails to feel new. His enthusiasm takes her breath away, and she moans into his mouth as his fingers slide over her. He takes his time, lingering to tease where she likes to be touched, parting her with gentle fingers to stroke her until she's trembling. She can feel how hard he is, pressing into her back, and knowing just touching her can have that effect still gives her a thrill.  
  
With a smirk she pulls away, turning to face him. He arches his eyebrow in surprise, but she reverses their positions, urging him back against the balustrade, before leaning in to kiss his neck. This time she's the one tracing a slow pattern down his chest, slowly sinking to her knees, and his strangled moan when she wraps her lips around him is enough gratitude for her. Her mouth pulls up his length, tongue tracing a vein, then she takes him in again with an eager sound of her own. A glance through her lashes shows his hands clutching the balustrade until his knuckles are white and she settles hers on his hips as she moves over him with purpose, until he is slick with saliva and pre-cum and his legs are trembling. Only then does she rise, sliding back up his body, her knees only protesting a little, to press a kiss to his mouth, even as she turns them again.   
  
With a glance through her lashes, she twists back around her hand curling around the balustrade, and looking out at the pool as she leans over a bit and presses back against him in an unmistakable invitation she doesn't often make. She hears his intake of breath, before his fingers trail down her spine with just a touch of nails. He teases over her, wetting his fingers, then presses them into her smaller hole, slicking her with her own juices. She moans at the penetration, but he's gentle, so very gentle. Even when his cock replaces his fingers, teasing at her opening and then gently sliding inside, he moves with a care he's always shown her, and the tenderness alone makes her shudder. One hand slides to her hip to steady them both, the other slipping around her, between her legs, finding her clit, as he starts to move, slow and easy. She knows she left him close with her mouth, but he manages a rhythm anyway, and the sensation of it twists in her stomach, so different than the other, and yet, god, good in its own way.  
  
She moans, rocking back against him, then into his hand, pressing her clit against his fingers and setting off little explosions through her body. The warm air seems hotter, and a trickle of sweat runs down her back. She's slick all over with it, she realizes, and so is he, as they move, and her breathing takes on a new desperation the faster his hand moves over her and his cock impales her. It hurts, she can't deny that, but with his fingers working her, it's a pain she welcomes, a pain he's taught her--like so many other pains--to bear with pleasure entwined, and her legs start to tremble as that pleasure begins to crest. He's panting, short, gutteral moans escaping now and again, and she lets herself cry out when he hits deep, not caring if the sound carries over the high hedges to neighbors in the silent night. Skin slaps against skin and the world narrows to stars and moon and his fingers on her and his cock in her until it's all too much and she feels him clutch at her, then a rush of warmth that fills her. His fingers press almost cruelly against her, but it's just enough to send her over that edge with him, moaning his name.   
  
They're both too weak to stand, sinking down to the cold flagstones that are a relief against burning skin. His arms wrap around her, and Angela stares up at the watching moon, feeling lightheaded and at peace.  
  
"I say we try out the kitchen counters tomorrow," Adam murmurs drowsily, nuzzling at her neck, and she laughs.  
  
Maybe there are advantages to an empty nest, after all.  
  
 _2008_  
  
In the back of a limo.  
  
The lights of the Strip are dulled by the tinted windows of the limo. Adam had thought it unnecessary to have the huge car, but Daniel had insisted, so here they were. Not that he didn't appreciate the luxury, Adam thinks, as he runs his hand over the mini bar, but a town car would have done just as well. He reaches up to tug at the bow tie at his neck which feels a bit too tight.  
  
"You're going to pull it loose if you keep that up," Angela says from next to him.  
  
He glances over at her and gives her a sardonic smile. "I feel like I've got my neck in a noose, and, yes, I do know what that feels like."  
  
"Nonsense. You've worn that same tie a dozen times or more without trouble. There's no reason for it not to fit now," she says briskly.  
  
"I don't think it's actually the tie, Angela."  
  
One eyebrow arches, and then she gives him a concerned look. "You think something more is going on than Daniel's telling us?"  
  
"I think there's always something more going on than Daniel's telling us. Paranoia's why I'm still alive," he says dryly.  
  
"But what?" she asks.  
  
"If I knew that, maybe I wouldn't feel like this." He looks out the window at the crawling traffic. "Kaito's going to be there. I think he's bringing Hiro."  
  
Her hand reaches for his, fingers curling around his tightly. "You think he'll cause a scene?"  
  
"He's Hiro. I...don't know what he'll do. I don't know what Kaito's told him. I..." Adam sighs and runs his free hand through his hair. "I've managed to avoid him for his whole life, but now..."  
  
"Now's the moment?" she asks.  
  
"The denouement," he agrees.  
  
"It isn't as if the others don't know," she points out. "Even if he makes a scene, they aren't going to care. It happened over three and a half centuries ago."  
  
"I know," he says, but the sense of forbidding still sits, a heavy knot in his stomach.  
  
"Are you worried about them, or him, seeing hm again after all this time?" she asks quietly, with her usual perspicacity.   
  
"It's been three and a half centuries," he says, parroting her, "Why would I be worried about seeing him again after all this time?"  
  
"Because you loved him," she says, still quiet, though she adds in a mutter, "God knows why."  
  
He shoots her a look, finally pulling out of his own brooding over the past to see shadows in her eyes. "Hey," he says, reaching out to brush his fingers over her cheek, turning her to look at him. "That was a long time ago."  
  
"Not for him," she points out, and there's a haunted look he sees now. "It's barely happened, for him, and he's going to be there, looking at you like his fallen hero he probably will want to save, or believe in again, or god knows what, and..."  
  
"And?" he asks, quietly.  
  
"And he's still young," she finishes, a bitter twist turning down her lips.  
  
Adam stares at her for a moment, before leaning over and kissing her, hard. He doesn't care if he smears her lipstick or messes up her hair. It's a brutal kiss, angry and possessive, and there's a flash of fury in his eyes when he pulls back. "Is that what you think of me?"  
  
She's wise enough to look wary. "I didn't mean..."  
  
"I love you," he says, though the snarl in his voice on the words doesn't leave them imbued with much tenderness. "I have loved you from the moment we met, and I will love you for as long as I live. Losing you...the thought of losing you...it kills me to think of it. I hate it. I would give _anything_ to keep you with me, Angela, for always. I don't care that you are aging except that it means our life together is moving closer to the time I will have to go on without you, and my world will always be a little darker for that. You are, without a doubt, the love of my life. There will never be another who will even come close, never could be another who I could share with what I've shared with you, and if you think for a moment that a carp-faced little boy who thinks I'm some sort of mythic figure can change that, then you don't know me at all, and what the hell have you been thinking all these years?"  
  
She stares at him, stunned, her eyes glittering with tears, but he doesn't give her much time to say anything, before he's kissing her again, seeming intent on proving in deed what his words have said. His lips move from hers along her jaw. "I worship you," he murmurs against her skin. "As much today, as I did the first time I kissed you here..." His lips brushes over her pulse, and he pushes the fur wrap she was wearing aside, to drop another kiss to her collarbone, "And here."   
  
His fingers slide around to work the zipper of her expensive dress down, and she gasps a bit, but doesn't protest as his lips continue their path, paying homage. The car's movement, its stops and starts, rock them as they move, and clothes can't come all the way off in the constraints of time, but his fingers and mouth find all of her anyway, sliding over her most intimate places, with a fierceness. When he takes her, it's not gentle, his eyes boring into hers until he sees the acceptance light hers, and she moans his name, returning his kisses just as feverishly. Her nails score his skin, and if they're both crying a bit when they come, shuddering in each others' arms, neither of them calls the other one on it, just clinging to each other tightly.  
  
"I'm sorry," she murmurs against his bare shoulder, kissing him as his open shirt brushes against her cheek, the offending bow tie hanging loose.  
  
"Don't," he orders back.  
  
"We'll get through tonight, whatever it is," she promises.  
  
He nods, pulling away a bit to help her pull herself back together as the limo slows, so they can face the others with a united front, in charge, daring them to even think of questioning, as always.  
  
 **One place you would never do it**  
  
 _1978_  
  
In a corn field  
  
Angela's bored. Very bored. Bored out of her mind bored. Why the hell they are driving instead of flying, she doesn't know, except Adam had said something about some time away together, and they could see the sights of America. Of course, if they were going to see the sights of America on some god-forsaken road trip, they should have brought Nathan, because it would have been educational, she said, before they left. But Nathan was away at summer camp, and all they'd seen for the last day was farmland anyway.  
  
She sighs, staring out the window of the car, head on her hand as Adam fiddles with the radio.  
  
"Why didn't we fly?" she asks, for probably the thirtieth time, which earns her a dirty look.  
  
"Because this gives us time together," Adam replies, for equally the thirtieth time.  
  
"We could have flown somewhere nice and had time together," Angela points out, voice sweet.  
  
"Road trips are fun," Adam says stubbornly, even as he hits the radio, which isn't picking up any signal at all. "What the hell is wrong with this stupid thing?"  
  
"Who the hell decided road trips were _fun_?"  
  
"Some idiot back in the fifties," Adam mutters.  
  
"It's almost the eighties, Adam."  
  
"We can take the northern route back, see Mount Rushmore."  
  
"Why in God's name would I want to see Mount Rushmore?" Angela gives him a scathing look.  
  
"Because it's fucking impressive," Adam snaps.  
  
They glare at each other for a moment, then he snaps his attention back to the road, and she goes back to staring out the window at the endless rows of corn stretching out as far as she can see.  
  
But a person can only look at corn for so long before losing their mind becomes a distinct possibility, and its becoming a distinct possibility, so she shifts her attention back to her husband. The sun is glinting in the window, catching his golden hair, making it shine, and, cross as it is, she has to admit he makes a very pretty picture. She shifts in her seat to lean against the door, watching him more openly, and he finally glances her way.  
  
"What?"  
  
Smirking, Angela moves over toward him, letting her fingers slide over his chest. Kneeling in the seat, she leans in close, nipping at his earlobe. "Pull over."  
  
There's a long pause. "What?"  
  
Her fingers wander lower, brushing over his jeans, cupping him through them and stroking so there can be no doubt about her intent. "Pull over," she repeats.  
  
"Angela...we need to get to the next stop." Adam squirms away a bit, trying to evade her mouth, though there's little he can do about her hand. "We'll be at the motel in just a couple of hours. Three at the most. Then we can play to your heart's content."  
  
"I don't want to wait," she purrs, lips chasing his ear, then giving up in favor of his neck. "C'mon. There's no one around. We haven't seen another car since we left the interstate 80 miles ago."  
  
"That doesn't mean someone won't come along soon," he protests.  
  
"Since when do you care?"  
  
"We're in the Bible belt. They might arrest us!"   
  
She pulls back a bit and gives him an odd look. Turning down sex is something she never, ever thought she'd hear him do. Taking a deep breath she tries something else. "We could park and wander out into the field, if you're so worried about getting caught. The warm earth, the sun beating down, all that heat and fertility all around us. Who knows what could happen?" She gives him her most alluring smile, fingers sliding over him again.  
  
Adam turns a bit in his seat giving her a truly shocked look. "Jesus Christ, Angela. In the corn field? Didn't you read _Children of the Corn_? No. We are _not_ stopping, anywhere around here, not for anything, and we are _definitely_ not going in those damn fields."  
  
Angela stares at him, stunned, and then claps her hand over her lips to stifle the giggles.  
  
"What?" Adam snaps.  
  
"You...you're...you won't have sex with me because of a horror story?"  
  
Adam glares.  
  
"What? You really think there are psychotic kids or something else out there that's going to sneak up on us and I won't see it coming and you can't survive it?"  
  
Adam glares more.  
  
Angela dissolves into giggles, falling back against her side of the seat.  
  
"We're not stopping," Adam snaps. "And that's final."  
  
"Oh, god," Angela gasps, between laughter. "Fine. We won't stop."  
  
Neither does her laughter, for a very long time, until Adam is forced to join in.  
  
Laughing or not, he still doesn't stop.


End file.
